Hey Brother
by SilentWiccan
Summary: Task Force 141 WAS the best of the best, there was no other way around it... And when you serve with the same people, over and over again, you can't help but form a special bond with them. Then there's the people you always thought you could trust, but break, whether it be because they were your commanding officer, or just a close friend. Soap, Roach, and Ghost centric, non-slash
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I claim no ownership of the characters and situations mentioned in this fic. This will circulate around the events on what I PERSONALLY think to be the best out of the newer Call of Duty games... Black Ops was alright. Mw3 sucked, never played BO2, and Ghosts... I DEMAND RORKE'S BLOOD, DAMMIT!**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

xxx

Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish  
Task Force 141  
Credenhill, UK  
Entry One, FNJ #3

_It's been two weeks now since Shepherd pulled myself out of the SAS into his own little force. The name is official: Task Force 141. He's off somewhere round here, offering his trials to the best of the best. I've got three names so far, three men who I know I can trust with what our role is; Roach, Ghost, and Reaper. Two Lieutenants, and a Sargeant. All from SAS. Shepherd claims he'll be evaluating the USMC and SEALs as well, but we'll have to wait and see. These Task Force groups are always comprised of the most elite, the best of the best. Looking back, I can see why Shepherd asked me to lead the team._

_But as for Ghost and Reaper, both are Lieutenants in their own respect. Ghost is a weapons and stealth expert. Not too shabby when it comes to electronic systems either. Reaper has her own respects though. Not too often do we see a woman in infantry, but I can understand why. She's a master sniper if there ever was one, excellent in predicting ECOA. Loyal to a fault, both of them are. At the same time, though, there's something... off about them. Not the correct way to put it, but it'll have to do, I suppose. Do I trust both of them with my life? Not yet. Ghost is closer to that then Reaper, but I've still selected her for the mission tomorrow. _

_All I can think of is Price's story about Pripyat, and of that bastard Zakhaev. If only I'd been well enough to get up and pull the bastard off of Gaz... Pripyat, Zakhaev... Rumors were circulating that members of his inner circle had rotated here, using the ruins as their own person base. The new Russia had risen in the shadow of his death, even with the Ukraine rising as its own nation. 1996 was when Price had been there, and now we're returning there, almost 15 years later. Radiation levels dropped considerably since Chernobyl, so that's not a concern. What is, is the enemy force. Am I concerned? A little, but why not? Long as we keep our heads down, and stay silent, we'll be alright. Reaper's nervous. That'll need to be fixed somehow..._

_I'll have to write later... It's late, I can hear the cricket chirping outside. We leave at 0400._

xxx

Ghillie Suits, silenced sniper rifles and assault rifles, some C4 and grenades for extra measure. Reaper surveyed her surroundings, keeping close to MacTavish as she made her way through the old abandoned amusement park. The area had been taken over by the vegetation, some grass and weeds standing around four feet tall. Trees grew wild and free, the roots and branches out of control. MacTavish stopped and signalled for the Lieutenant to do the same, both soldiers crouching as the sun slowly began to set behind them.

"Movement?" Reaper whispered, looking at the surroundings through the scope of her rifle.

"Aye. Patrol to the west, 100 metres." The Captain responded, looking through his scope. "Three tangos. Take 'em out or let 'em pass. Up to you."

Reaper inhaled as she took aim, shifting a step to the left as she pulled on the trigger. One fell, another stumbled, the bullet planting itself in his shoulder. Another bullet flew free as the second dropped. The third began to run, crying in pain for his wound. Silence entered the air as MacTavish dropped him. "Alright then. I'll take point. Copy?"

"Copy." Reaper spoke, nodding in response as she waited for her commander to begin leading the way.

MacTavish couldn't help but wonder how close they were to where to Price had been for the failed assassination. The area was clean, save for the enemy patrols, but there were no bloodstains that colored the ground beneath them. Rubble from the buildings littered the ground, some of which were large chunks of pure concrete. The amusement park had long been abandoned, the old rides still hanging on to one another but brittle.

The buildings nearby, looking to be either some kind of apartment or office complex, was all cracked on the exterior. It had been 29 years since the incident occurred, 15 since Price's mission. MacTavish couldn't help but think back to the old man's words about taking it slow inside the structures. He would mention about the rumbling or the shaking, or the small rocks that fell from the outter cropping. It wasn't a favored option, but there wasn't much of a choice. They had to make it to the old Holdings office.

Their target building was made mostly for financial planning and such, but had been turned into a large database. It was considered stable enough, so that fact was on their side. They only had to make it two klicks through the ruins without sounding the alarms. Not hard, right?

xxx

"Shepherd, this is Hotel Six. We have arrived at the target building. Proceeding upwards to the cache." The Scot stepped back a foot from the door, signalling for Reaper to enter and clear.

"Copy Hotel Six. Keep your eyes peeled for enemy personnel. We're reading very little enemy activity coming from inside the building, but I'm not willing to take the chance that we're that lucky." The General could almost be heard sneering at them. His voice carried a certain threat to it that neither of the operatives wanted to deal with were something to backfire.

"Roger. Proceeding with data extraction."

Reaper exhaled heavily as she took point, and opened the door to the target building slowly. MacTavish had already put on his NVGs in case the power was out, but with the entry way clear of enemy personnel, and minor lighting to boot, they were in. Removing the hood and torso portion of her ghillie suit, in addition to the leggings, she moved forward, deeming the first hallway clear. Crouching down, she then lowered her sniper rifle and swapped it for a SCAR-H strapped to her back. Sighted with a holographic, she moved up towards the stairwell. MacTavish came up beside her, also having removed his ghillie suit. The man nodded to her as he took point up the stairwell, silenced ACR ready and waiting to claim blood.

Floor after floor, until they reached the 12th, was clear. No personnel had been stationed inside to keep watch over the goldmine they had stumbled across. There were several computers set up, all linked to the master drive. Photos littered the walls, decorating the building with names, locations, and faces of Zakhaev's enemies, his successors and his inner circle. Inside another office, there was another photo of his ultimate enemy: Price. They had hunted for the man, searching for him. MacTavish remembered that day... the day Gaz was murdered and the day Price had given him the pistol holstered against his right thigh.

"You bloody son of a bitch..." MacTavish whispered to himself, Reaper hitting a few more keys in front of the computers. He looked over to the left and saw one other photograph of a man, more than likely in his mid to late thirties. "Makarov?"

She watched him intently, keeping silent. Hooking up a hard drive, she began a transfer. Her eyes started at the Captain. His muscles stood rigid, his body seething with rage. He never had found out if the old man had died or was still working somewhere for the SAS.

"Reaper, sitrep."

She glanced back down at the computers, looking over to the progress bar of the transfer. "Everything is copying now, but its all encrypted. It'll take some time to work through all of it. What about all those photos, sir?" She asked, rather daringly too, motioning towards the picture of Price.

"Old memories that I'd rather bury in the ground. One round to Zakhaev made it all worthwhile." He mumbled, obviously distasteful. "Sooner we get out of here, the better. How long, Lieutenant?"

The Reaper peeled her eyes away from the pictures as she glanced back to the lit screens. She couldn't guess at the amount of data, but they were only a third of the way there. "Few minutes yet."

"Captain MacTavish, be advised." Shepherd's voice came over the radio. "You have a small enemy patrol entering the building. They know you're in the vicinity. Grab whatever you can, and get out. Your team cannot afford to be compromised right now, son."

"Copy." He replied, cutting the transmission as he glanced back over to the sniper. "We have sixty seconds before we need to move. How much can we get in that time?"

"Not enough..." She whispered, tying away as fast as she could, trying to secure some of the more secure files. "There's too much here, but I'll prioritize as best as I can. Where do we go, they'll sweep and clear."

MacTavish looked over to the window and saw a railing one room over. He then paused to look at his watch. _0217... Sun and moon are no good... Star trajectory..._ "We're on the north side... They'll be clearing through the south and east. We rappel down, cut the lines and head back to the bush until it's clear to move to the exfil point. Clear?"

She nodded back to him, finishing up before disconnecting the hard drive and placing it in the pouch attached to her belt and right thigh. "Copy. Lead the way."

xxx

Close calls were never very high on the Scot's favorite things to come across during a mission, but it didn't top dogs. He hated dogs with a passion, considering himself a cat man ever since the time when Price had to pull the damn thing off of him before breaking the animal's neck. Even then, he'd take nearly being spotted as they rapelled down from the building over having a guard dog chase him. _Bloody good luck..._ He though to himself as they carried on, heading back through the alleyways and into another building, this once an apartment complex. Surprisingly, it was stable, next to no cracks in the structure itself.

They carried on through the second floor, moving slow until MacTavish had noticed something up on the road ahead. It appeared to be a small 4-car convoy. Reaper set aside her aussalt rifle and reach for the sniper, aiming down the scope. "These bastards look familiar from those photographs. What do we do sir?"

MacTavish took position behind a pillar as he tried to radio Shepherd. "Radiation must be higher here..." He spoke, debating on the issue. "We go. Now! We don't have time to linger here, Reaper."

"I have a clear shot, I can take them all out right n-"

Thunder cracked into the air as blood decorated the floor beneath her and the wall above her. MacTavish shut his eyes and cursed. They had known where he and his Lieutenant were, and now because of carelessness, on both their ends, Reaper had paid the price. Reaching for her tags, another shot rang into the air, and he hid back behind the concrete walls.

"Shite..." He growled, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. His hands caressed his rifle, every crease and crack that it had come to earn in his use. He stood, dropping the gun. Instead, he grabbed her body by one leg, dragging it out of sight and behind cover as he reached for her tags. Instead, his eyes were drawn to her cold, green eyes. The bullet had dug itself into her skull above her right eye. "I'm sorry, Reaper. You stubborn dog..." He mumbled to her before he dragged her eyelids down and pulled the silver chain away from her body. He then reached for the portable hard drive in her pocket and placed it in his instead.

With no time to think, his feet began to carry him towards their exfil point, one click west of his position. There was no time to move slowly through the buildings anymore; if he didn't leave, he too was a dead man.

"Shepherd, come in! This is MacTavish! Reaper is down, I repeat, Reaper is down. I'm running for exfil point Charlie now! Situation may become hot!" He called, breathing heavily as he hurried forward, climbing one fence and jumping it as bullets began to fly to the left of him. The more distance he could put between these men and his ride home to safety, the better.

xxx

**AN: So, here we go! New fic from the beginning formation of the 141, and the various trials that occurred in their short existence. Next chap will be up before the end of the month, and will feature Roach and Ghost as well. So don't worry too much about them not being involved. please feel free to leave any comments or criticism. Any flames, however, will be used to roast Shepherd. Take care guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So here's chapter two! Hurray! And thank you to Guest reviewer _Fire_ for the review! Enjoy :)**

xxx

Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish  
Task Force 141  
Credenhill, UK  
Entry Four, FNJ #3

_Reaper's gone. We took the scenic route without realizing it, and she paid the price. This intel better be worth it, or else I swear, Shepherd will be skinned. I won't hesitate. First Zakhaev took Gaz and Price away from me, now the remnants take one of my Lieutenants? _

_We were sloppy and messed up. Even with her death, Shepherd won't stop. He's cooking some kind of plan, and I don't like it. I haven't told Ghost or Roach yet; I'm worried how they'll take it. _

_Ghost has this... temper, about him. He's strong and level-headed, and I trust him to a point. He's one of the best I have, but even now, I know something happened to him. Even if he won't talk about it. This will hit him some way or another... And then, Roach and Reaper weren't close, but I know he looked up to her for tactical advice and such... Poor kid. _

_Reaper... if you could somehow see this, know that I'm sorry. I should have pulled you with me, away from open sight. Rest now, we'll finish what _they_ started..._

xxx

0857  
Credehill, UK

MacTavish sighed as he put away the small book and pen, letting his head rest against the cold metal of the helicopter. The wind beat against his face, causing his eyes to seal themselves shut. The exfil point hadn't been compromised, and he had sustained no injury whatsoever from the mission. If anything, he himself had gotten lucky.

His thumb ran over the small, cold, metal discs engraved with small letters and numbers.

A POS  
2876201  
PIERCE, Tamara  
'REAPER'  
ARMY

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled to himself, the whirring blades overhead clouding his thoughts to her face as she lay dead beside him. Her eyes, frozen and hazy, blood beginning to pool at the corner of her lips, and then the bullet hole, just above her eye... It was instant. "At least you didn't suffer..."

"Sir, we're back almost at the base, ETA 5 minutes."

MacTavish nodded to the pilot who had looked back over his shoulder. Talking with Shepherd wasn't going to be fun, whether it was for a debrief, the intel, or just his written report. He dreaded having to explain Reaper's death. And it wasn't really so muhc the fact that she had been killed under his watch... It was the fact that he LET it happen.

Gaz popped back into his head once more, the old veteran staring at him rather smugly, nodding his head, as if to tell him he did alright back there. Oh how he missed the poor old bastard.

MacTavish became lost in his thoughts once more as the chopped slowly settled on the ground below and he stepped off of the rails. Ghost and Roach had been waiting for him, Roach carrying some of his extra gear in a duffel beside him.

"Welcome back, sir." He said, trying to gaze at the man. Before he could ask the second question, the young Sergeant noticed that his Captain had handed over a silver chain with two small discs on it to Ghost.

"...Was it at least painless?" The Lieutenant had asked, staring at them for a moment before clenching his hands into fists.

MacTavish could only nod at his new second. "Aye. Where's Shepherd? I have intel for him, and it can't wait." He glanced over to Roach as he ran his left hand over his mohawk. "Where are you going?"

Roach sighed and crossed his arms. "New op run by the General, sir. Apparently I get to be inducted into the mile high club in about 30. I leave in 5. Standard breaching op, but we'll have to see how it goes."

Both of his comrades stared at the young man for a moment, MacTavish nodding while Ghost stayed silent. "Good luck, Roach. You make it back in one piece, and maybe I'll let you run with me on my next op."

The thought scared him for a moment. As if going up in a double-decker jet liner wasn't bad enough... He'd have to worry about his aim on this one. One bullet shot at the wrong place, and the plane could rip apart.

"Don't worry so much, mate." Ghost told him. "You're precise, that's why you're here, with the 141. With us. You'll do fine. Now the bloody yanks, they might be another story..."

xxx

Ghost had retired to the barracks, exhausted from watching the new recruits attempt to exceed his expectations on the course. As he stepped inside of his room, the man removed his headset and shades, setting them on the small oak desk. He then removed his spectral balaclava and ran a hand through his short brown hair, accidentally hitting the chain that contained his identity. _Reaper..._

A sigh escaped him as he walked past the mirror that hung on his wall, catching a glance at his bloodshot eyes. The though of her being gone bothered him. Moving to sit on his bed, he removed his combat boots and socks, opting to lay down instead. His eyelids were heavy, and as he closed them, his mind went to the day before the op.

_Reaper smiled as she walked down the path to MacTavish's office. Roach had been sent with a message for her to attend a briefing with Ghost and the Captain, and she was glad to oblige. She'd had enough of watching new recruits blow the course. _

_Upon approaching the office and stepping inside, Ghost had chuckled a bit and glanced at her._

_"Did I miss something entertaining?" She had asked, setting the clipboard down on his desk as she sat in one of the two chairs. _

_Ghost shook his head. "Nothing really, just old memories of the 22nd a few years back."_

_Reaper smiled and glanced to the Captain. "Sir?"_

_"Right." The Scot spoke, motioning for Ghost to take a seat as well. "Shepherd stumbled across an enemy base of sorts set up in Pripyat, in the Ukraine. Large database, large enemy force. He wants us to go in, but I'm not so sure." He paused for a moment, reaching for a cigar and lighting it as he placed the end in his mouth. "The situation is not optimal, to say the least."_

_"Is it ever?" Ghost asked, tilting his head to the side. MacTavish glanced at him, his eyes sarcastic._

_"Shepherd has also claimed that we'll be close to a terrorist group at the location too. Unfortunately, as fas as I know, we've not been cleared to take them out."_

_"Bollocks. They expect us to go in get close, and just leave?"_

_Reaper shook her head, looking over to Ghost. "Think about it, we'd be behind enemy lines, against a force of what, five, six hundred? Three people aren't going to get far if we end up having go in, guns blazing."_

_"That's why this is going to be a stealth operation. Most of Pripyat is still abandoned, and the infrastructure is crumbling. We've been authorized ghillie suits and silenced weapons. And further, I'll only be taking you, Reaper." _

_Her eyes shot back at the Captain, glancing between him and Ghost. "But sir... Ghost is far more qualified for this. His stealth scores are higher. He's far more efficient than I am."_

_"I realize this. Ghost, I would take you if I didn't need a sniper." The Scot looked at both of them, Ghost still sitting rather leisurely in his chair while Reaper was leaning forward, completely against the recommendation. "Reaper, you're the best sniper I have besides Archer, but his shoulder is still out. I need you instead."_

_Defeated, she sat back and cursed, looking away from the two of them while she shook her head from side to side. "Alright fine. When do we leave?"_

Ghost opened his eyes and stared at the plain ceiling above him. He placed his arms behind his head and though back to when she had approached him about the mission after their meeting with MacTavish.

_"Ghost, wait up!" She called, running to catch up to him. He turned to face her. "Thanks." She said, staring down at the ground as they walked. "Do you really think I should be going on this with the Captain?"_

_Ghost could only shrug, keeping his arms beside him. "You don't think you're capable?"_

_"Just worried. Something feels off. If that's all MacTavish could tell us, I can't help but wonder if that's all Shepherd told him. It's not enough info. Something feels off." She replied, exhaling heavily._

_"Have a little faith in yourself, mate. He chose you because you have skills that I don't. Your's will be needed more." He went on, stopping to look at her over his shoulder. "It'll go fine as long as you keep your head up and stay alert."_

Ghost sighed again, sitting up. His arms and shoulders felt stiff, and his neck ached. _As long as you keep your head up and stay alert..._ He repeated in his mind. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel like he told her the wrong thing. _Keeping her head up is what got her killed... Bloody hell... _

Looking over to the small digital alarm clock on the bedside table, it read 11:42pm. It was late nut he didn't feel like sleeping. Maybe a drink at the pub just a few minutes away would help.


	3. Chapter 3

One pint of stout had been enough. The pub itself had been relatively empty for a monday; go figure. But the only reason he chose that pub was the fact it was the closest. If there had been another choice, he would've gladly taken it. The last time he came here... he didn't want to remember that night, but he couldn't help it as the memory washed over him.

_Ghost made his way to the pub, stepping inside wearing a set of beige cargo pants, dark colored running shoes and a black jacket, pulling out his wallet as he noticed Reaper sitting at the bar a few stools over. He pulled one up beside her, receiving his pint of stout. "Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"_

_Reaper laughed and smiled, taking another sip of her lager. "Oh come on, Simon! When was the last time we ever got to have some fun off base?" She nudged him in the side with her elbow, prompting a glare from the blue-eyed man. _

_"Don't call me that." He responded, sipping through the foamy head to the rich, amber-colored liquid. "You know the rule, Pierce."_

_"Oh Riley... Loosen up!"_

_The man grumbled, looking away and shaking his head._

_"Hey, Riley, I was kidding, alright?" She looked at him, turning her head in his direction. "Riley..."_

_Ghost sighed and glanced at her from the side, cocking a smile in her direction. "Alright then, you win. What's your reason for coming here, then?"_

_She shrugged at him, tapping her nails on the oak counter. "Couldn't sleep. The briefing was bothering me, and I haven't had a drink in a good while. Thought it'd be a good way to unwind."_

_Rolling his shoulders, he nodded, understanding her view of the situation. "You're really shaken up about this, aren't you?" He received a nod. "It's normal, far as I'm concerned. Wish I could help."_

_Reaper flicked her dark hair back over her shoulder and leaned back. "Everything that can go wrong, will. You know me well enough... When I get one of these feelings, shit happens." Her face turned to his, green eyes meeting blue. "Simon... I don't think I'll end up coming back from this one."_

_"Tamara..."_

_"No. Don't." She silenced him, taking another sip of her drink. "We don't have all the intel we need. We'll be significantly outnumbered. If I fuck up, MacTavish, myself..."_

_"Stop that." He said, watching as her eyes held a frantic gaze of terror. "What's really bothering you? You've never been like this, mate."_

_She shook her head and left a handful of change on the table upon finishing her drink. She stood and grabbed her jacket from the back of her stool and proceeded to walk out. _

_"Tamara!" He called, rushing to pay and do the same. _

_Pushing through the doorway, he caught her by the arm. She wanted to slap him for it, or punch him, but CQC in public? Even if it was close to midnight, it wouldn't be a good idea. So instead, she opted to free herself from his grasp, and glare at him. He simply stood there, in front of her, waiting for her to speak. When she stayed silent, trapped in his gaze, he opened his mouth to speak. _

_"You're a soldier. One of the best. There's no reason you should act this, Lt. Pierce. It's a disgrace to the SAS and 141. So get your shite together, mate. You don't have time to play the wounded puppy."_

_That did it. He had indeed stirred the shit pot this time, he could see it in the way she balled her fists at her side. "You really want to know why, Simon Riley?!" She screamed at him, lunging at him with nothing but rage. _

_He went to dodge her swing, but instead caught her in his grasp. He didn't understand why she had moved to strike him, but instead shut herself down. "Tamara?"_

_"Simon..." She mumbled, looking up at him as she planted a small kiss on his cheek. "I care about you... MacTavish, Sanderson... you, you're the only family I have, the only people I care about. Outside all this, I have nothing. And then there's nothing but you... I care about you far more then I should." She spoke a mile a minute, pulling herself away from him, beginning to back away. "I'm not coming back tomorrow, Simon... I know this in the back of my mind, and I'm ready for it... You need to be too."_

_I love you, she had said, before running off into the night. The next day when they had left, Ghost had only caught a glimpse of her as she climbed onto the helicopter. There was no expression left inside of her. And when MacTavish had arrived back on base, Ghost realized she had been right. She hadn't made it out of the mission alive._

xxx

Ghost hated the night, mostly due to nightmares. Sleep never came easy for him, but when he woke up later from the sound of rotor blades whirring above, he couldn't help but wonder what the commotion was all about.

He sat up groggy, making his way from the bed to the clothes dresser against a wall, pulling on a pair of flannel pj pants. Wiping the crusty bits from his eyes, he made his way from the barracks over to the helipad to see Roach stepping off with Frost and Sandman in tow. Their mission must have gone over well.

"Hey, Ghost!" Roach called to the Lieutenant, making his way over with his duffel in tow. "Little underdressed for the weather, aren't you?" He commented, noticing Ghost's lack of a shirt.

"Bugger off, mate. It's three in the bloody morning. I was trying to sleep, but you just had to come back to base."

Roach chuckled. "Somebody's gwumpy!" He replied, making fish lips at his superior. Roach couldn't help it; his chances to bug Ghost about something were very rare. The Lieutenant was nearly flawless in everything he did. Nearly.

"Did everything go well, then?"

The Sergeant nodded, shouldering his duffel as they both began to head towards the barracks. "HVI was simple bag and tag. Enemy take-down was far too easy for us." They stopped, Ghost making for the door to their building. "The target was freaking out a bit though... was a bit annoying to deal with when we had to jump. All in all, it was a good day."

Walking down the hall, Ghost nodded to the younger man. "Right then... I'll hear all about it in the morning. You should get some rest too. MacTavish will want a full debrief in the morning, and Shepherd is supposed to touch down around 0700. Good night, Roach."

"Yeah... Night, sir?" He replied questioningly, watching as Ghost vanished into the small room.

xxx

"Start from the beginning, Captain." Shepherd ordered, taking the cigar from his mouth as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Roach, Ghost, Frost, Scarecrow, and MacTavish sat around the conference table, MacTavish placing the harddrive on the table, directly in front of him.

"With Zakhaev dead, Russia has gone to civil war between the Loyalists and Ultranationalists. This place..." He paused, bringing up the central area of Pripyat. "Pripyat, originally destroyed in 1986, still in ruins, was being used as a base of operations for Zakhaev's inner circle. What we found at one of the main data storage facilities, if it could've been called that, was pictures, and large data files. We were only able to recover around half of the files, and a majority of the pictures." He brought up a photo slide of the wall that held Price's face, and this...Makarov. "This man, is Captain Price, my former commanding officer before I joined the 141. This man, is Makarov. We're unsure of his connection to Zakhaev at this point in time, but we're hoping the data on this drive will give us some kind of answer."

"What about the incident, Captain?"

MacTavish sighed, and Ghost placed her tags on the table, keeping his fingers entwined in the silver chain.

"We were on our way out, and stopped for a moment once we caught sight of a small convoy. We were able to identify some of the personnel as Zakhaev's inner circle. Reaper wanted to take the shot, and I denied it. I was trying to contact you, General, but my radio was buggered. Then the shot came, straight through her skull, above the right eye." He glanced around the room at his men. "It was instant death. Painless." He paused, seeing each of them nod, except for Ghost, who tightened his grip around the chain.

Shepherd scoffed, and took the harddrive from him, earning a glance from the soldiers. "A shame, if anything. She was a good soldier, died for her country. She will be remembered." His gaze turned to Roach, handing the harddrive off to a soldier that stood behidn him. "And what about Kriegler?"

"Sir, it was a standard secure and exfil op. Enemy opposition was easily cut down as we made our way through the lower level to the upper level of the aircraft. Hostage was being used as a human shield, but we were able to get him out without injury. Soon as we touched down, he was extracted for interrogation, and I was sent back here. That's all there was to it, sir."

Crossing his arms, gazing at the 141, Shepherd closed his eyes and chuckled. "Well alright then. I suppose it's time for my little surprise then." He called back over his shoulder for someone to enter.

"Well then. Guess it's time to get back to work, eh?"

"Price...?" MacTavish spoke, slowly rising his chair. "Is it really you? I thought when... Kamarov had said..."

"Kamarov says a slot of shit, Soap, you should know that by now." Price responded, reaching into his left breast pocket to pull out a cigar, Villa Clara, most likely. "How you been? You're a Captain now, eh?"

"Sir, please allow me to introduce you to the 141."

Shepherd cleared his throat and took his leave. "I'll let you get to it, Captain Price. I'll see you all later once this data is cracked."

MacTavish nodded to the man, Price shrugging. Ghost got up to leave, but was stopped. "Ghost is my Lieutenant, recently assigned as my second."

Price weighed the man before him, and found nothing out of place. "He looks young, but you've seen a lot for your age, haven't you?"

Staring at the man, Ghost placed Reaper's tags back into his pocket and made for the door. "If you'll excuse me, I've got training to go run. Three new picks today."

"Alright, lad." MacTavish nodded and brought Roach over. "This is Roach. He's young and only a Sergeant, but he was with the SAS, like us and Ghost before he was re-assigned here."

Price surveyed the young man, noticing he was anxious to get on with his own training for the day. Not to mention that Ghost would skin him if he was late beyond what the man expected.

"Roach, eh?" He asked, watching the young man as he placed his arms behind his back and stood at ease. "How'd a muppet like you pass selection?"

"Same way I did, sir."

"We'll see..."

xxx

Captain John 'Soap' MacTavish  
Task Force 141  
Credenhill, UK  
Entry Four, FNJ #3

Price is back, by some miracle or another. I was starting to think I would never see him again after the launch facility and Zakhaev's death. We stopped one madman, but another seemed to take his place. That intel better have something on this guy, Makarov...

Ghost seems on edge. So does Roach. I understand Price is a bit... intimidating, but the man is a good one. He's save my life more times that I'd like to admit, but even then, I've saved his a few times too. Where the hell has he been all this time?

No matter, I suppose. If Price is joining us, then by no means will I say no to handing over command of the Task Force to him. He's earned it from me, and that's how he'll earn it from Ghost...

xxx

**AN: Bit of a slower chapter, and I KNOW that Operation Kingfish came before Mile High Club, but meh. Switching it around for proper flow, and to give Price a reason to come back into Soap's life withing the 141 before the Gulag crap. So yea. Hope you enjoyed this! Please feel free to leave any kind of comments or criticism!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: This chapter will mostly focus on OP KF, with bits and pieces from some other stuff. Enjoy!**

xxx

Three days had passed by. Sandman and Frost, both consulting for Delta of the US forces, had actually managed to surpass Ghost's expectations for the course, and had also told him the stories they had heard when rotating near Fire Base Phoenix in Afghanistan.

"Really now?"

Sandman nodded to him as he cleaned his M4A1. "Yeah, man. They wouldn't shut up about some dude with a mohawk and another guy wearing this creepy skull-mask. Said that the way they moved was just mind-blowing, incredible even. Finished their pit-run with 18 seconds, or 19 seconds...or something like that."

Ghost remembered the time when he and MacTavish had rotated there. Shortly after he was selected for the 141 actually, and they were asked to 'educate' the newer Marines. They would switch on and off to take point, both armed with only their knives and an M1911. It was fast, and almost too easy.

"Keep going, mate. I wanna hear every last detail."

Frost laughed, sipping out of a bottle of water. "Little bit full of yourself, sir?"

Ghost sneered behind the mask, shaking his head as he caught sight of MacTavish making his way over to them. "All three of ye, my office, now."

xxx

General Shepherd had that one look in his eyes, the kind of look that you knew only existed if some serious shit was about to go down. Roach, Ghost, MacTavish, Price, Sandman, and Frost all stood, looking intently at him.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Delta Force operatives Sandman, Frost, I hope your stay here has been at least somewhat enjoyable. As for you all, 141, we have a new threat underway that must be taken care of." Shepherd brought up a photograph of Makarov, and a military base stationed in the Karkonosze Mountains in the Ukraine. This is believed to be a safehouse for him and his inner circle. What we do know for sure, is that this is indeed one of their launch points. If we take him here, we end what may turn into a global catastrophe."

A few satellite images came up on the screen projector. "This is the base, You'll be inserted here, approximately three miles south of the base. Once you enter the field, maintain radio silence until you reach the east barracks. Proceed through the central office complex and obtain whatever you can."

MacTavish leaned forward. "And if we find this Makarov?"

"Kill or capture."

xxx

Sandman and Frost took positions up on the ridge about half a klick north of the base. Price lead the 141 operatives around through the south fence, slowly making their way to the south wall of the easy barracks.

"141 is moving to standby positions. Sandman, Frost, fire when ready." Price called over the comms, waiting behind the wall with his team.

Meanwhile, on the ridge, Frost got into position with his Barret, while Sandman acted as spotter. "Price, we count four targets. East barracks, two guards, west barracks, one guard, central complex, one guard. Fire, fire, fire."

Frost looked through the scope, targeting the two on the roof of the east barracks, he waited until they crossed one another, and then thunder rang in the air. He fired again at the west barracks, as the body that collapsed under itself fell from the roof. One more rang into the air as the fourth body fell, and a shot rang out from the man's assault rifle. Soap cursed as he heard the AK, hoping that none were nearby.

"Hornet's nest has been stirred. Spectre-64, you are cleared to engage." Sandman spoke over the comms, the AC-130 above gunning down enemy soldiers who were making their way through the treelines to the base.

Price had leaned out to double check the path ahead, but quickly withdrew as bullets hit the concrete close to his face. Soap cursed out, and loaded a grenade into the launcher attached to his M4, firing when he had an opening. "Targets down."

Price went to move again, this time guns firing from within the brick building. "Spectre-64, requesting covering fire on the west barracks!"

"Copy that. Smoke that building." Came over the comms, as three 40 mil rounds smoked the building, crumbling the exterior, and eradicating the enemy personnel inside. "Hot damn! That's a good kill. We got you covered, 141. You are cleared to engage."

Price moved up, carrying Soap, Roach and Ghost behind him. Two small groups attempted to oppose them, and might have even got a shot off had they spent less time positioning themselves. The stories Sandman had brought with him about Ghost and Soap being fast were apparently true.

"Spectre-64, give us an entrance to the complex." Price called, 40 mil rounds raining down on the field in front before turret rounds blasted through the windows.

As they entered the old building, Price tossed a frag into the main hall. As soon as it went off, one man leapt out of the room, injured and scared. His gaze tried to meet with Price, as if wanting to be spared, but the veteran gave it no thought and pulled the trigger.

Ghost moved up from the rear, taking point as he investigated the room Price had fragged. "Clear right." He moved, peeking into a room on the left. He popped two men, and moved to the next doorway at the end of the hall. "Clear left. Hallway clear." Soap and Roach stacked up behind him, and Price took the lead once more.

The second hallway was more narrow, and had more rooms than the last. They would need to move single file.

Price, still taking point, lead the way, his knife being driven into a man on the left. Roach stayed close to him, as Soap lagged two feet behind with Ghost, drawing his pistol, firing two rounds into the crippled man as they advanced.

Another grenade was tossed into the small room ahead of Price as he waited for it to go off. "Move up. Hurry."

Roach nodded, the group stacking up and taking positions as he set a breaching charge on the empty wall at the end of the hall. Soon as it went off, all that could be heard was "9 Banger!"

Ghost moved up as three men dropped to the ground in front of him. One man groaned, Ghost slowly moving his head to the side as he fired a round into the wounded's forehead. "Room clear. There's no sign of the HVI." He called out, Price making his way to check all the dead bodies. Roach held his position outside, and Soap made his way over to a table.

More photographs lined the walls, this time, of him and his old team back in the SAS. Several faces of the men he once knew had been marked with an X, dead and buried. "Price, you need to see this..."

"What is it Soap..." He muttered.

"He's targeting Bravo Six." Soap was disturbed by this, taking pictures of what lay on the walls. There were blueprints of several facilities too, one of which that looked to be of an airport schematic.

Price glanced to the pictures of himself and Soap, shaking his head as he placed a finger to his ear. "Command, 141 has arrived at the target. There is no sign of Kingfish. I repeat, there is no sign of Kingfish. We're collecting what we can to bring back."

Static came over the comms, followed by a rough voice. "Copy that 141. Get whatever you can, and get out. Be advised, you have enemy forces closing in on your position. Recommend you proceed to exfil."

Price gazed over at the photographs once more before the sound of something chirping. "We need to leave, now."

"But sir!" Ghost started, Price pulling the man by the arm as Roach began to back up.

"Now, soldier! We are leav-" The C4 that their enemy had planted had gone off, and the 141 were knocked down to the floor.

Ghost coughed a few times, and Roach lay motionless. Soap and Price had been unscathed, by some form of sheer done luck, but they weren't going to complain.

"Roach, Roach wake up, we need to go, mate." Ghost called to the FNG, helping the young man get to his feet as their CO's began to make their way to the north. "Time to go!"

xxx

They ran, making their way out of the base and back into the trees before coming to a field filled with indigenous grasses and weeds. Their legs carried them as fast as they were able, dodging the numerous grenades and bullets that chased them. Sandman and Frost had been able to rendezvous with the 141 in the forest, and now, it was a race to the helicopter.

"Spectre-64, we are under heavy enemy fire! Requesting support, danger close! Take them out!" Price called, Soap beginning to fall behind upon rolling his ankle and stumbling for a moment.

"Copy that 141. We got you covered." They responded, more shots from the 40 raining down and smothering the life out of the enemies that chased them. It still wouldn't be enough though, as RPG's began to set up back at the tree line. One fired, followed by another. The gunship sparked it's flares, safe for the time being.

One RPG launched, not aimed to the sky, but instead at the group. Soap hustled as it planted itself beside him, causing the man to look back and take a small piece of shrapnel to the left eyebrow and cheek. The cut seared with pain, and crimson began to seep from the outer edges. Soap was down.

"Roach!" Sandman called to the Brit. "Help me with him!"

"Covering fire!" Price called, Frost and Ghosts setting up beside him as a female voice came over the comms.

"Captain Price, Spectre-64 is down, I repeat Spectre-64 is down."

"Shite!" He cursed to himself, watching as Soap was dragged away from the battle. Frost had already begun to run for the chopper that was only feet away from the group, and soon ordered Ghost to follow. "Get to the chopper now!" Ghost looked at the old man, firing three more rounds at the enemy before questioning Price. "That's an order! Go!"

Ghost shook his head in disgust, but did so. "Fuck!" Was all he could manage to say before bolting to the aircraft. "Price, come on!"

As Roach and Sandman carried Soap on board, the chopper began to lift from the ground. Frost raised his voice in protest just as Ghost got on, checking over Soap's injuries. The Scot wouldn't sit still.

"Get that bird in the air!" Price called to them, taking a bullet to the shoulder. He ground his teeth against the pain and sat back up, pulling out his side arm and firing twice before taking another bullet to the leg.

Soap struggled against Ghost, wanting to get out there and save the old man, as he had done for himself so many times in the past. Price was the father he needed. "Let me go, I have to help him!"

"You can't mate!" Ghost responded to him, pushing him against the inner walls of the chopper. "It's too late... Price gave himself to get you, _us_ out of there. Don't throw that away, sir." He told the wounded Captain, Soap gazing at him through bloodstained remorse.

Frost, still standing by the pilots, only told them six words. "Just get us back to base..."

xxx

Frost and Sandman could only pace back and forth with one another at the basketball net. Upon touching down, they were the first to be debriefed. Ghost and Roach followed, and once MacTavish's wounds had been cleaned and taken care of, Shepherd brought him in.

The armory had a certain... darkness to it. MacTavish wanted to just rest. His eye hurt like a bitch, and his vision was still blurred to a point. Being on painkillers and antibiotics didn't exactly help much, but he still had a job to do and he understood that. "We were out-gunned and outnumbered... The AC-130 was shot down but numerous RPGs. Hell, one almost too me out. Price stayed behind to ensure the rest of us got out." His voice fell silent as Shepherd looked out the window to see a group men running around the base.

"That's it?"

MacTavish wanted to slam his fists down on the table, just to let the rage out. Price had only just rejoined them, only to be taken away from him again. He had missed the old Captain more than he had realized, but at the same time, he had become a leader in his own right. MacTavish stood up, his chair being forced back as he stood. "Who the FUCK is Kingfish, Shepherd?!"

The General tossed a file at the Captain, who promptly reached for his knife, and stabbed the photo in the blink of an eye. "Don't worry too much, MacTavish. We'll get the bastard eventually."

"How bloody soon?" He asked, rage seething from his body. His fists were scrunched into balls, his arms rigid. His breathing grew heavier as he pulled the knife from the table and sheathed it.

"Soon enough."


End file.
